


Between The Lines

by WernickesArea



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Radio Host!Jinyoung, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WernickesArea/pseuds/WernickesArea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of his many sleepless night, Mark stumbled upon a local radio broadcast.<br/>The host's voice and supportive advice were what he needed.<br/>Yet, does Mark need more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Can you tell I've been pretty obsessed with markjin lately?  
> I swear, they will send me to my early grave.

“ _Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves._ ”

Faint lights coming from speeding cars illuminated the dark ceiling of Mark’s bedroom. Yellow streaks flew past his eyes, melting with the shadows of the night once more. Mark blinked, small luminescent dots sitting on the back of his lids. 

“ _Well, everyone. Milan Kundera really has a way with words, don’t you think? I find his stylistic choices quite pleasing._ ”

The soothing voice coming from the earphones snugly placed in Mark’s ears paused, the sound of shuffling paper the only thing that could be heard. The open window let in a cold breeze that tickled at his feet; Mark wiggled his legs closer to his body. Those that were all of his pair of socks were piled in the hamper, still in need to be washed.

“ _Have you ever suffered from vertigo? I’m not too fond of heights myself, don’t get me wrong. But I also wouldn’t want to prevent myself from reaching out for ‘something higher’. I guess it is kind of a dissonance. Between what we feel and what we want._ ” 

Mark hummed, snuggling further into his hoodie. He closed his eyes, curling on his side, head sinking into the soft pillow. 

“ _I hope you found tonight’s reading interesting. And remember: don’t hesitate to suggest me more books, I want to know what you guys would like to hear._ ”

More shuffling could be heard, before a tinkling music started playing in the background.

“ _This has been Junior, your host for the night. Sweet dreams everyone. Until next time._ ”

Mark exhaled softly, his chest lighter and his muscles less taut. He clicked out of the app for the local radio station, locking his phone and shoving it under his pillow. He pulled the headphones out of his ears, throwing them in the direction of his nightstand.  
The pillow smelled like his new shampoo, something of a mixture between mint and lavender. He turned on his other side, replaying in his mind the voice that had been reverberating in his ears not too long ago. 

It was not a mystery that Mark had trouble sleeping. No matter how hard he tried, he would always end up spending the night tossing and turning under his blankets, brain tired but unable to let go and plunge into much needed unconsciousness. It all had started when he had moved away from home to go to college. Living alone was a great step ahead towards independence, but it also took an unexpected toll on Mark, making him more prone to lethargy. The freedom that came with the so called ‘adult life’ unsettled his careful balance, thrusting him into days spent being unable to find a healthy distribution between study time and everything else. 

It was during those days, when the nights seemed - for the first time in his life - to project on endlessly, that he had found a local radio station that aired after midnight. Mark had stumbled upon it by chance, memories of how it happened a hazy fog in his mind, but he had been charmed by the voice of the host right away. The careful, yet pressing timbre carried a soothing quality to it; it was like a balm for Mark’s overworked brain. 

Junior, probably a pseudonym, didn’t have many pretenses in his simple show. He would read his favorite books to his audience, made up mostly of those who, just like Mark, needed the right distraction to cope with the heaviness of the night. Some days he would even receive text messages asking him for guidance on the most diverse subjects. Junior would, without hesitation, give his personal and heart-felt advice, never an undertone of judgment in his voice. 

Mark had wanted to write his own thoughts to Junior, sending him a piece of his troubles, in a vain attempt to clear his head from the useless burdens that cluttered it. In the end, he never mustered up enough courage to send anything, settling with letting the husky voice lull him into a tranquil state of mind. 

The digital clock on his bedside table blinked tirelessly, apprising Mark of the late hour of the night. He tried not to think too hard about how tired he would end up being the following day, deciding to focus on his breathing - he remembered Junior giving out a similar advice: “ _Imagine air flowing inside and outside of your lungs_ ”.

Eventually, he must have fallen asleep while his concentration had been drawn to his expanding and constricting chest, because he jerked awake to the obnoxious blare of his alarm. Mark shot his arm out to stop the source of the noise, basking for a moment in the following silence. He blinked a couple of times, groggily staring at his vast collection of books. He had never been an avid reader, his interest in written words limiting itself to comics and compulsory textbooks. Yet, something in the way Junior read, like each syllable held a meaning as heavy as life itself, pushed Mark towards the local bookstore. 

The first time he had stopped there, it had been mainly out of curiosity. He was getting back home after his classes, his music blasting from his headphones, when an array of colored posters caught his attention. He glanced in the direction of the colorful windows, coming to a slow stop in front of them. Apparently, the posters were advertising the release of a new book. He scanned what the ad said, something about how the author was going to sign some copies for a handful of lucky people. What caught his undivided attention though, was the title of the book. Mark frowned at it, brain failing to come up with _why_ it sounded so familiar. He reached out for his phone to pause his music, when it hit him. It was the title of the book Junior had read the previous night. After a moment of indecision, he awkwardly stepped into the bookstore. That night, at home, he had spent a good chunk of his time wondering about his newest purchase. He flipped through some of the pages, reading here and there what caught his eyes. 

That, was how it had started. Mere curiosity and a magnetic pull to reach out and own something that held something of a mysterious meaning to it. Perhaps a way of being connected to a person he had never seen in his life, and yet played such an important role in it. 

Mark paddled in the direction of the kitchen, set on preparing himself a hearty breakfast. His roommate wasn’t awake yet - Youngjae must have spent another night up playing games - so, once he was done, he placed the leftovers on the counter. 

His classes were as boring as ever, but he tried his best to take notes. It wasn’t an easy feat to keep his eyes open though, his brain so slow to catch up that he could see his hand writing something down, but he took ages to process _what_ exactly was he writing. 

Once his last lecture of the day was done with too, he realized he had some unread texts. He unlocked his phone, seeing how his girlfriend had tried to contact him since early in the morning. Mark wasn’t too great on texting though; he tended to ignore a good part of the messages he received. Moreover, using the term _girlfriend_ was a bit of a stretch. They weren’t exactly dating full-time. They had sex (a lot of that actually), they went out sometimes too, but they never directly addressed the issue of being a couple or being exclusive. Mark was fine with that. 

Yet, when he saw the slayage of messages asking him to _hurry up and answer, we need to talk_ , he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nervousness. It wasn’t full-on worry, but it sit on his stomach like a brewing uncertainty. 

“There you are!” Jihyo said once Mark joined her by the vending machines next the entrance to the study room. He had to walk all the way to the Liberal Arts building and it had taken him some time. 

“Hey.” Mark greeted her, taking her hand in his. “What’s up?”

Jihyo huffed, gently disentangling his fingers from Mark’s hold. “As I told you a hundred times already, we need to talk. And can you please answer your phone when I text you?” She puffed out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She toyed with it for a bit, Mark wordlessly staring at her. She was wearing a white dress, with blue flowers printed on her skirt. It looked cute on her. 

“You see Mark…” She started. “I think that we should stop doing… whatever it is that we do.”

Mark didn’t say anything, just kept on staring at her. He shoved one of his hands in the pocket of his jacket. 

“I’m looking for something serious right now, and I don’t think I can have that with you. I’m sorry.” 

The whirring sound of the vending machines droned on in the background, making Jihyo’s whispered words almost inaudible. Mark scuffed the sole of his shoes on the floor. 

“Okay, we can stop.” He said, eyes fixed on Jihyo’s kneecaps. 

She nodded, her nervous habit of braiding small strands of her hair taking over. 

“Thank you.” Jihyo smiled hesitantly, sending a grateful look Mark’s way. “See you around, then”

Mark raised his eyes, looking at her already retreating form.

“See you around.” He mumbled.

When Mark exited the Liberal Arts building, the sun was hidden behind a bundle of dark clouds. Some rays still managed to peek through the thick layers of imminent rain though, painting the sky a sickly ochra. He lifted his hood over his head and walked, eyes down, back to his apartment. 

Just like many days before, he stopped in front of the local bookstore, this time the pull to enter tenfold stronger. He held on tightly to a strap of his backpack, while his eyes scanned the endless rows of printed backs, each book squished right next to another. His fingers skimmed by many titles, until they landed on the one he was looking for. He made his way in the direction of the cash register, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ tucked carefully under his elbow. He paid for his purchase and finally headed back home, thinking whether his roommate would be there too. 

Youngjae was sitting on the couch, cross legged, petting Coco and watching some kind of game show on his laptop. 

“Mark! Hey man!” He called out once Mark sidled up to him.

He reached out, taking the small dog in his arms and cuddling it to his chest. He had yet to discard both his jacket and his backpack, but he needed a good snuggle with his favorite dog.

“Uh? Is everything alright?” Youngjae asked, perching on the back of the couch. 

Mark only buried his nose in Coco’s white fur, standing there for some time. Youngjae kept on looking at him with his head tilted to the side and a question mark almost visibly hanging above his head. He didn’t ask anything more though, knowing Mark needed time to open up. He limited himself to patting his forearm, vacating his spot on the couch. 

Coco was soft and unmoving in Mark’s arms; she was probably enjoying the hug, too. He put her down then, the bundle of fur staring up at him. He cracked a small smile at how she was wearing almost the same expression Youngjae had given him a couple of minutes ago. 

“Coco.” He said. She perked up right away at hearing her name called. “You hungry?”

Once Mark fed the dog, he eventually threw his backpack into his room, tossing the jacket somewhere on the ground. He padded into Youngjae’s room, the boy taken with a round of what Mark recognized was League of Legends. He sat on his friend’s bed, the springs squeaking under his weight.

Youngjae spun his head to stare at Mark, his face painted in surprise. He raised a hand to his chest, releasing a relieved sigh. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

Mark laughed at that. Youngjae had always been a scaredy cat; even his own shadow was a fearsome monster to his own eyes. 

“Can I play too?” Mark asked, pointing at the screen on which small figures were running around, throwing spells and screaming catch phrases. Youngjae smiled widely, telling Mark to go take his laptop so they could start a new game together. 

And just like that, a good part of the evening and of the night passed by, the two boys yelling insults at their respective screens or at each other. Mark was so engrossed in the videogame, that his attention got diverted only when Youngjae insistently patted on his back. 

“Mark! I have a project tomorrow, I should really, really go to bed.” He whined. 

“Just a moment, I’m almost…” Mark clicked repeatedly on his mouse, forcing his character to take down the enemy base. His eyebrows were scrunched up in concentration, lips pulled tight. When a female voice eventually announced his team’s victory, he fist pumped so hard he almost fell off of the bed. Youngjae started laughing so hard that he risked to tumble on the merciless floor himself. 

“All better?”

Mark turned around to blink confusedly at his friend. It took him a couple of seconds before understanding what Youngjae was referring to, but once he did, he nodded. 

“Mmh.” He hummed, sitting up and reaching for his laptop. 

“Nice, man!” Youngjae replied in that distorted English of his. “Goodnight!” 

“Goodnight, Youngjae.” Mark waved at his friend from the hallway, stopping to check on Coco before heading into his bedroom. His backpack was still lying unceremoniously on the floor, so he picked it up. Something slipped out of it, catching Mark’s attention. It was the book he had bought that afternoon, the receipt still stuck between its pages. He reached out, dusting it off and placing it on his overly cluttered library. 

The clock told him that he could still catch that night’s radio broadcast if he hurried to unearth his headphones from his backpack. Once he found them, he laid on his bed, phone at the ready to connect on the usual station. 

“ _Hello, everyone. I’m Junior, and as always, I’ll be your host for the night._ ”

Mark could already feel himself drift off into his own world, a fuzzy, warm feeling surrounding him like a blanket. 

“ _‘Hey Clark’, he said. ‘Tell me something good’. I stared out of the window at the bright-blue Swiss sky and I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn't have met, and who didn't like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. And I told him of the adventures they had, the places they had gone, and the things I had seen that I had never expected to. I conjured for him electric skies and iridescent seas and evenings full of laughter and silly jokes. I drew a world for him, a world far from a Swiss industrial estate, a world in which he was still somehow the person he had wanted to be. I drew the world he had created for me, full of wonder and possibility._ ”

His eyes were closed, breath even as it came out in shallow puffs. All the windows of his room were closed, the wind blowing outside making the fixtures rattle. And like the flicker of the flame of a candle, Mark felt a memory prick at the back of his head. At first, he tried to will it away, willed his body to stay still, to relax. But his brain refused to collaborate, the memory becoming more and more vivid. 

Jihyo’s words snuck into his head like thin smoke, making his leg muscles tense. They had cut their _thing_ off, it had been so easy. And Mark felt… nothing, really. For a moment, it worried him. Was it right for him to not feel anything at all? After all, they _did_ have something. His whole body prickled with nervousness. 

He sat up straight on his bed, Junior’s voice obviously ignorant of Mark’s sudden turmoil. The screen of his phone was too bright when he unlocked it. It took him some time to trace down the number he was looking for, but once he found it, he felt a pressing need washing over him. His fingers typed words like he was a mad man on a mission, thumbs tapping the screen with bewildering confidence.

Once the text had been sent, Mark came down of his momentary high. He raked a hand through his hair, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. What had been done, had been done. All he needed to do now was wait and listen. 

“ _Oh, looks like we got a new message._ ”

Mark fell back on his bed, bouncing on the mattress. 

“ _‘Dear Junior, the person I have been sleeping with... sort of dating too, but not really... today told me that we needed to put a stop to our relationship. I am not exactly sure how I feel, but it is unsettling to realize I probably feel nothing. What does this mean? Thank you.’ Signed, M._ ” 

There was a static noise buzzing somewhere inside Mark’s ears, a sound so far he could have been imagining it. 

“ _Looks like you got yourself in quite a pickle, dear ‘M’._ ” Junior chuckled, the sound sparking up all the dark places in Mark’s mind. “ _You should take some time for yourself. It’s okay to feel confused, emotions are something of a mystery, there is no secret in understanding them. Give yourself some time to come to term with the situation._ ” 

Mark smothered his smile in his pillow. 

“Okay…” He whispered to the night that had seeped into his bedroom. His heart felt more at ease, and all of a sudden he felt immensely tired. Perhaps, that night sleep would come sooner than usual.

☆

It was like a dam had finally been broken, and feelings were rushing to escape Mark in a river of words and text messages to a radio host of a late night broadcast.

After that first night when he had found the courage to make his voice heard, Mark couldn’t refrain himself from writing something every night. Sometimes, when the darkness in his room threatened to eat away at the seams of his frayed soul, he’d send heartfelt messages, whispers of help in his too feeble voice. Other nights, his lungs would feel lighter than usual, and he’d joke around with Junior, teasing him as best as he could. 

“ _‘I really like your voice’, signed M…_ ” Junior’s breathy laugh fizzled in Mark’s earphones, sounds lost in the radio waves that reached him. 

“ _Please, refrain from bribing the radio host with compliments._ ” Another laugh. It sounded shy and muffled, like Junior was covering his mouth with his hand. “ _It may be working though._ ”

Mark stared at his bedroom ceiling, somehow trying to picture that laughter in his head. His chest ached to the beat of the memory, the awareness that he could never be able to witness it with his own two eyes making his blood run colder. There was something sad in that realization, and it made Mark want to curl up on himself. 

As days went by, his visits at the bookstore seemed to happen more often. But unlike other times, he would simply limit himself to perusing the various books on display, skimming through the inked pages. He would not buy anything, content with basking in the calm atmosphere of the shop. People there looked at peace, lost in whatever story they were reading. Mark needed some peace in his life. 

It was another gloomy afternoon, rain spattering against the windows of the store, creating a cozy atmosphere inside it that had everyone treasure silence like a prayer. There was an old man muttering under his breath next to Mark, who was busy leafing through a book called _The Catcher in The Rye_ \- he may have studied something about it in school, but he never prided himself in being a diligent student. All his senses were focused on the rustle of the pages and the feeling of paper under his fingers, when a voice broke through his consciousness. 

“That’s one of my favorites.”

Mark started in surprise, his heart rate spiking up in a matter of seconds. The book in his hands fell with a resounding _thud_ , hardback cover colliding with the wooden floor. He turned around, coming face to face with a smiling individual. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve startled you.” The person bent down to pick up the fallen novel, dusting it off.

“Ah, no, it’s… it’s okay.” Mark’s heartbeat was still through the roof, his nerves on high alert. 

The man in front of him offered him back the book, a playful smirk on his lips - the motion accentuated the hint of stubble on his chin and upper lip.

“You were staring at it so hard, I thought you may have been wondering if you wanted to buy it or not. Just wanted to add my two cents.”

The man had a mop of dark hair on his head that framed his ears that were endearingly sticking out. Mark gulped, hugging the book to his chest and shuffling awkwardly on his feet. His mouth felt dry.

“Is… Is it good then?” He said, almost in a whisper.

The other man nodded, diverting his attention to another copy of the same book and tapping it with his index finger. 

“There’s this part I especially like…” He flipped through some pages, making a satisfied sound once he found the one he was looking for. “ _‘The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one’_. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Mark couldn’t calm down his breathing. He kept on swallowing, yet the sense of constriction in his throat wasn’t lessening; if anything, it was getting worse. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other man’s face; he was smiling, his eyes crinkled cutely at the sides. 

But that _voice_. Mark knew that voice. He had spent too many sleepless nights in his small bedroom, listening to some unknown radio broadcast, to forget it so easily. It was like an earthquake in his world, but a mere drop in the ocean. Two people, meeting each other at a bookstore. What were the chances? Millions. 

Yet, for Mark to find him, to find _Junior_. The chances couldn’t have been that high. 

“Ummm… Yeah, so. You should definitely consider purchasing this.”

Mark snapped out of his thoughts, dropping back into reality. He must have been acting like a creep; he had been staring at Junior for too long. Why couldn’t his mouth move?

“Thank you.” Mark mumbled, finally getting his brain cells to unfreeze from their stupor. 

“You’re welcome. I hope you will like it.” And with that, the man made to leave. 

Mark panicked, scrambling to think of something, _anything_ , to say. He couldn’t let Junior get away, not like this. Probably he thought Mark was some kind of weirdo who stared at people for no good reason. He took a step forward.

“Ah! What’s your name?” He called out, voice louder than he was normally comfortable with. 

Junior turned around, a questioning look on his face. It passed by quite fast though, replaced by a polite smile. 

“Jinyoung.”

Mark nodded, smiling back at him.

“I’m Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark.”


	2. Chapter 2

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. Mark looked everywhere. He was on a mission, and he wouldn’t be stopped easily. However, looking for someone on any sort of social media site only knowing their first name and a few others details didn’t help much. Mark was impressed by the amount of people called ‘Jinyoung’ all over the world. Two of them were even idols. Go figure. 

After meeting Junior at the bookstore, Mark decided that he couldn’t let the man go without at least knowing his real name. And a name he got. But only that. And so he turned to the 21st century means of getting to know a person: searching them up on the internet. 

At first, he had the brilliant idea of looking up on the site of the local radio station to see if there was some kind of link to the hosts line-up. His luck just wanted the site to be down for some kind of maintenance, which caused him to be back at square one. 

He had spent all evening and a good chunk of the night looking for people who could match with what little Mark had. Jinyoung must have been living in the area if he had been in that bookstore, but he could have also been there for a mere coincidence. All in all, he worked at the local radio station, so he couldn’t have been residing too far from the city center. Yet, no matter how many pages or names Mark scrolled by, he couldn’t find what he was looking for. 

It was Sunday morning, sun lazily streaming through the windows, when Mark’s tireless research finally paid off. Coco was cuddled up next to him on the couch, Youngjae eating breakfast at the kitchen table. The living room was silent, except for the crunching sounds coming from the younger who was munching on his cereal. Mark was scrolling through a never ending list of people on Facebook, the name _Jinyoung_ repeated on the small screen like a mantra - or a curse. 

All of a sudden, he jolted to his feet, scaring Coco who started to bark worriedly at one of his owners. 

“Uh?” Youngjae lifted his face from his bowl of cereals. “What’s up?” 

“Found him.” Mark mumbled to himself, looking to his phone with wide eyes. 

“Who? Who did you find?” Youngjae stood up from the chair, paddling towards Mark. He bent down to pick Coco up in his arms, cooing at her, trying to make her calm down. 

Mark didn’t answer though, simply kept his eyes nailed on the Facebook application that he had currently open. Youngjae tiptoed behind him, throwing a glance at whatever Mark seemed to be so engrossed with. The screen showed the main diary of a certain _Park Jinyoung_ , living in Seoul, student, born on the 22nd of September 1994. Youngjae furrowed his brows.

“Park Jinyoung?” He tapped his chin pensively, Coco wiggling impatiently in his arms. “Why did I hear that name before…”

However, Mark wasn’t paying too much attention to his friend, his eyes scanning the screen in front of him. Jinyoung turned out to be that someone who had no profile picture, and the main photo on his diary was some hipster image of an open book. Quite fitting, Mark thought. He scrolled through the page, sadly realizing that the only pictures of him were ones where he was either really far away from the camera, or lost among a lively crowd. Where were the selfies? Mark had a bunch of those. Anyone under the age of _thirty_ had a bunch of those. 

Incidentally though, he found a link to Jinyoung’s instagram. His handle was _pepi_jr_. How cute.  
Here he got luckier, a handful of selfies of the man littering the feed. And if Mark wasn’t one hundred percent sure until then, he was now. Jinyoung had a picture of himself inside a recording studio, probably the one of the radio he worked at. 

“Ah, yes! Park Jinyoung! He’s Jaebum’s new flatmate.”

Mark blinked a couple of times, brain slowly registering Youngjae’s words. He finally lifted his eyes from his phone to stare purposefully at his friend. 

“Youngjae.”

“Mmm?” He answered, too busy wiggling a finger in front of Coco’s muzzle. 

“Do we have to meet with Jaebum or something this week?”

Youngjae looked up at Mark, frowning in thought. “I don’t think so. He’s busy with work. Why?”

Mark bit at the inside of his cheek, going back to tinker with his phone. Jinyoung’s last Instagram update dated back to two months prior, he couldn’t possibly _like_ it. He needed to get rid of the _creep_ image he had bestowed upon himself, not further fuel it.

“Nothing…” Mark replied, when an idea hit him. “Ah, don’t you… don’t you have to return him something?”

Youngjae’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, I still need to return him his Stat textbook… Okay Mark, you really need to hit me up with what’s with you, man, ‘cause -”

“I will return it to him.” Mark stepped in front of Youngjae, taking Coco from his arms. 

“... you’re strange.” Was all he said, before he made his way into his room to go and retrieve the textbook. While he waited, Mark ran his jittery fingers in the small dog’s soft fur, cradling it to his chest. 

Once Youngjae reemerged from his bedroom, book in hand, he threw one last meaningful look at Mark - one that could be translated to “ _You are acting strange, but I’m too scared to ask you why. Again._ ” - before handing it to him.

“Here you go.”

Mark put Coco on the ground, taking the proffered book in his slightly shaky hands. The front cover had _Im Jaebum_ written in cubital letters, with the sketch of a dog right under it - probably concession of one Choi Youngjae. 

He thanked his roommate, running into his room to grab his jacket and his shoes. And in a matter of seconds, Mark was out the door and speed walking his way towards Jaebum’s apartment. He was already halfway there, sweat collecting at his brow and dripping down the sides of his face, when a doubt struck him. Surely Jaebum would be home: it was a Sunday, and he knew that his friend didn’t have work during the weekend. But what if Jinyoung wasn’t home? After all, the whole objective of Mark returning the textbook to Jaebum wasn’t for him to meet with said man. 

He stopped in his tracks, drying his forehead with his forearm. He really hadn’t thought the whole thing through. He huffed and puffed for a bit, thinking of a plan while trying to calm his breathing. At that point, he was a couple of minutes away from Jaebum’s place, so his feet carried on with determination. 

The building stood out from a distance, rows and rows of blue colored shutters clashing with the yellowish tone of the external plaster. Mark skidded up the three flights of stairs, before ending up in front of a wooden door with the number thirtytwo emblazoned on it. He gulped audibly, the sound echoing down the empty hallway - or perhaps he was simply influencing himself. 

He put his finger on the doorbell, pushing it once, twice. A muffled ring could be heard, before the sound of a lock had Mark stiffen in his place. From the door, a familiar face appeared right in front of him.

“Hello, can I help you?”

Jinyoung was wearing a pair of black framed glasses, hair pushed back from his forehead. The hint of stubble on his chin was gone.

“Hey, hi, ummm…” Mark toyed with the sleeves of his jacket. Jinyoung was there, in front of him, and his voice sounded as soothing as ever. Mark needed to collect his wits. 

“I was looking for Jaebum?” 

“Is that a question?” Jinyoung smirked, leaning against the frame of the door. 

Mark blinked. “No, I’m… I need to give this back to him.” He showed the textbook in his hands to the other man. 

“Oh.” Jinyoung’s eyes widened. “He’s not here right now. He was asked to work an extra shift, so he will be back later.”

Mark’s shoulders sagged. Great, he was here, finally able to talk to Jinyoung again, and he needed to leave right away. The dark haired man must have taken pity on Mark’s sudden disheartened state, because he added right away: “You can wait inside for him, if you wish.”

At that, Mark perked up, smiling in relief. “Okay, thank you.” 

Jinyoung gestured for him to get inside, Mark thanking him once more. The apartment wasn’t too spacious, the living room fully occupied by a flat television, a couch and a collection of books that well surpassed Mark’s one. Without even realizing it, he found himself drawn to it, dropping casually the textbook on the coffee table. There were many titles he didn’t recognize, but some of them were very familiar to him. He took what seemed to be an old copy of a collection of poems by Emily Dickinson. 

“Mark, right? We met at the bookstore, if I remember correctly.”

Mark turned around to look at Jinyoung, the other man looking at him with an amused expression on his face. 

“Yeah. You’re Jinyoung.” Didn’t Mark plan on seeming less creepy? However, inexplicably, there was something about the other man that made him disregard many social norms or polite behaviors in general. 

“Yup.” Jinyoung crossed his arms over his chest, squinting his eyes at Mark. “Have you been stalking me?”

Mark’s lungs freezed, his breath caught somewhere between his throat and the back of his teeth. He could feel cold sweat collecting at the nape of his neck. He could see that Jinyoung was obviosuly joking - he was, right? -, but his brain went in temporary shut down.

“No! I mean, I… No.” He bit on his tongue to halt any further rambling. “You have a lot of books.” 

Jinyoung looked at him for a second longer, before walking up next to him. He bumped his shoulder against Mark’s one, skimming his finger over the cover of the book in his hands. 

“I will overlook the fact that you pretty much diverted my assumption of you stalking me,” Mark coughed softly, in an attempt at covering up his embarrassment, “but yes, I do happen to take my readings very seriously.”

Jinyoung flipped through some pages, before ending up on one that had been dog-eared and that was full of annotations scribbled on its corners. 

“ _‘Tell all the truth but tell it slant — / Success in Circuit lies / Too bright for our infirm Delight / The Truth's superb surprise / As Lightning to the Children eased / With explanation kind / The Truth must dazzle gradually / Or every man be blind —’_ ”

Mark’s blood was flowing in his veins like trickling water gushing from a spring. His heart was beating to the sound of each syllable leaving the other’s mouth. He didn’t dare to talk.

“Do you like poetry?” Jinyoung asked, staring at Mark with a curious gaze. 

Mark had never had an interest in it, no; but he couldn’t exactly pin-point whether he was left in such wonder by the meaningful words that had just been recited or by the voice that had recited them. He tried to give the less suspecting answer.

“... I do. This one’s nice.” He really didn’t possess the most cultured vocabulary, but he tried to express his emotions as best as he could. 

“Yeah, I like it too.” Jinyoung nodded to himself. 

“What are your favorite books?” Mark ventured, watching as the other man blinked up at him. It was kind of a useless question. Mark already knew many of Jinyoung’s favorite books. He wanted to keep their conversation going though, and the topic seemed like a safe one to start from. 

“Well, are you free until tomorrow morning?” 

Mark furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Because if you want me to exhaustively answer that question, then it’s going to take us some time.”

“I have time.” Mark replied, going to sit on the couch, staring resolutely at Jinyoung. The dark haired man laughed in amusement, hand going to cover his mouth (Mark had guessed right). 

Just like that, the two sat on the couch, talking about any and every book Jinyoung had ever read. In fact, they didn’t just discuss about the best ones, but Jinyoung seemed to harbor a fondness in criticizing many novels too.  
Whenever he felt brave enough, Mark gave his opinion too; it wasn’t like he was scared of expressing it, he simply felt like he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt Jinyoung’s excited ramblings. The younger’s passion for books was infectious. Yet, Mark was grateful at how he never pushed him to talk more, nor did he press him when he needed time to ponder over his next words. Jinyoung was patient and never overbearing, qualities that Mark highly appreciated in people. 

The clock ticking away on the coffee table told them that a good couple of hours had passed since Mark had first set foot in the cozy apartment. The two were discussing over the merits of cookbooks - “ _Shouldn’t the pictures be more realistic? Isn’t that false advertising?_ ” - when the front door opened.

“I’m back, and I have takeout. You better appreciate my ass, I paid for it -” Jaebum stalled by the entrance, taking in the two men huddled on the living room couch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Jinyoung jolted to his feet, a light dusting of red coloring the tip of his ears. Mark chuckled at that. 

“Hey, Jaebum. This is Mark.”

“Hi, Jaebum.” Mark waved at his old time friend. “How was work?”

“Tiring. What are you doing here?” Jaebum placed the plastic bag in his hand on the floor, next to a tall cupboard. 

“You know each other?” Jinyoung asked, going to retrieve the bag, peeking inside it. The smell of Thai food was strong. 

“Yeah, we went to the same high school. Don’t touch the mango rice. That’s mine.”

Jinyoung pouted, sticking out his tongue in a childish manner. Then, he made his way into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Mark was racking his brain in a vain attempt to remember why, in the first place, he was even in Jaebum’s apartment. He scanned the room in a panic, eyes falling on the Stats textbook laying on the coffee table under a stack of books. He stood up from the couch, recollections of that early afternoon’s happenings sparking up in his mind. 

“Youngjae wanted me to bring you back your Stats textbook.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was the _excuse_. Close enough.

“Oh, cool. I needed that, thanks. Economics is kicking my ass.” Jaebum smiled gratefully at his friend, patting his back.

“Guess I will leave, then.” Mark took his jacket from the hanger by the door, waving at Jaebum.

In that moment, Jinyoung emerged from the kitchen, an apron tied around his hips. Mark bit back a smile. 

“Going already?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want to stay for dinner?”

Mark scratched at his cheek. “Ah, thank you, but I really need to go back… home.” He finished lamely.

Jinyoung nodded. “It was nice talking to you. See you.”

“Bye.” 

Mark closed the room behind his back, skipping down the three flights of stairs. Once he reached the main door, he dozed off, staring at the darkening sky. The clouds were tinted a bright orange, hues of pink and yellow weaved in between. Mark breathed in the cool breeze, lifting the jacket’s hood over his head. He sped back home with a spring in his step and the far echo of a voice in his head.

☆

“What was that about?” Jaebum’s mouth was full, grains of rice ending up the table top when he opened it to ask his question.

Jinyoung pulled a face at his friend, using a napkin to clean up the mess.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. Can you please not talk with your mouth full. Not to sound rude, but it’s unsightly.”

Jaebum smiled at Jinyoung, shoving more rice in his face. “Love you too.”

“Disgusting.”

“Seriously, man. What’s up with you and Mark?”

Jinyoung munched on a grape, leaning his head on his hands. “He dropped by to hand you your book. You weren’t home yet, so I asked him if he wanted to wait for you. The big mystery is uncovered.”

Jaebum snorted, punching his friend on the shoulder. “I came back to you two literally cuddling on the couch. What’s up with that, mister Myth Buster?”

Jinyoung gasped, putting both his hands in front of his face. “Are you accusing me of premarital _cuddling_? Damn, I knew you were old, Jaebum, but this is getting out of hand.”

Another punch was aimed at his shoulder, but Jinyoung managed to evade that one. 

There were a couple of minutes of silence, before Jaebum opened his mouth again. 

“You think he’s cute.”

Jinyoung stared at his friend like he had grown a second head.

“I… what?”

Jaebum smirked knowingly. “You were watching him with these really doe eyes. I bet you were two steps away from reciting him one of your corny Shakespearean lines.” He put one of his hands over his chest, the other thrown dramatically over his forehead. “ _Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou -_ ”

Jinyoung swatted his friend upside the head, sending him almost face first into his dinner.  
Who cared if Jaebum was older than him. No one was safe from Jinyoung’s Vengeful Hands, not even one of his closest friends. Not when he was being a royal moron, that is. 

“Woah, man! I paid this with my own money!” Jaebum protested, circling his food with his arms, trying to defend it. 

“Not my fault you’re being an idiot.”

“... you still think he’s cute.”

Jinyoung huffed, standing up from his chair. He made his way to the kitchen sink, busying himself with washing the only two glasses sitting in it.

“What if I do.” He mumbled under his breath. 

“Uh? What was that?” Jaebum’s loud voice reached him.

“Nothing. Just said you stink.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Despite Jinyoung’s attempts at covering up what he thought of the blond man - his smile was really cute, okay? - the world seemed to be up against him. 

In the span of two weeks, Mark dropped by their apartment to leave random shit for Jaebum, each time ending up spending more time talking with Jinyoung. Sometimes they would chat for a handful of minutes, talking about classes and their studies; other times they would sit down on the couch and pass hours on end talking about anything and everything. At times, they would watch tv, Mark preferring to zap channels until he landed on some action movie or a documentary about felines. 

Jinyoung had learned that Mark was a quiet guy, always preferring to spend time in companionable silence rather than filling it with useless words. He liked that thing about him, a quality that made him treasure more the rare times during which Mark seemed to launch into fevered monologues about skate tricks or his favorite foods. 

As Mark started to get more comfortable around Jinyoung, he also started to look more for physical contact. Jinyoung was a touchy-feely kind of guy himself, so he often enjoyed the attentions he received. On many occasions, they would end up holding hands while watching a movie, Jaebum never failing to tease Jinyoung for it to no end. 

“Are you dating or something?” He asked one night, while Jinyoung was busy cutting some vegetables. The question caught him by surprise, which caused him to almost cut himself on the sharp kitchen knife.

He cleared his throat. “Funny, because I could be saying the same thing. He’s always bringing you stuff. Does he like you or something?” He laughed, but it sounded humorless even to his own ears.

Jaebum turned around from where he was busy stirring something in a large frying pan, and stared at his friend.

“Mmm, who knows.” He joked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jinyoung snorted, flicking a piece of radish at him. “Hah, yeah. Come back on planet Earth. Your ego is already big enough Jaebum.” 

“Woah, is this jealousy I’m smelling.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s your dinner burning.” Jinyoung retorted, watching in amusement as Jaebum cursed, hurrying to salvage their food. 

And as they proceeded to consume their half burnt dinner, Jinyoung thought about Mark’s bright eyes, wondering if he would see him soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJP interactions are one of my favorite things
> 
> MarkJin: *hold hands*  
> Me: ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


	3. Chapter 3

The roads were silent, streetlights flickering on and off over Jinyoung’s head, projecting his shadow on the asphalt in slightly broken intervals. The crisp air of the night filled his lungs to the brim, the smell of smog and rain mixing and sticking to his clothes. His steps echoed down the street, bouncing off the tightly packed apartment buildings cluttering the area. He stopped in front of a familiar one, gray like the rest, except for the tall antenna standing out at its top; it was decorated with small red lights blinking on and off to a silent beat. 

Jinyoung entered the building, taking the elevator to the usual floor where the recording studio was located. He greeted the same people he met every other night, exchanging a few polite words with them. The local radio station was a small one, mainly run by the old owner and a group of young trainees who took care of the sound check, engineering and every other technological aspect. The morning DJ was someone just like Jinyoung, a guy who loved music and who found the job enjoyable. Jinyoung had met him on more than one occasion, finding the guy very funny and approachable. 

Chaeyoung, the girl who took care of adjusting the various equipment, let Jinyoung know that it was all set and that he was scheduled to air at his usual time. He thanked her, taking his usual place in front of the microphone connected to the big console. He saw the girl signing him the seconds before the air time.

Three, two, one. 

“Hello, everyone. I’m Junior, and I’ll be your host for the night.”

To tell the truth, Jinyoung gained more than a simple enjoyable experience from his time spent as a radio host. Not only was he able to share with others what he loved most - his passion for books -, but he was also able to help people. He didn’t see himself as some kind of truth-speaker or life guru; he never claimed to be an essential presence in his listeners’ life, but he liked to believe he had some kind of positive impact on it. 

“ _‘Everything tells me that I am about to make a wrong decision, but making mistakes is just part of life. What does the world want of me? Does it want me to take no risks, to go back to where I came from because I didn't have the courage to say "yes" to life?_ ’”

That night, he had chosen a book by Paulo Coehlo titled _Eleven Minutes_. He had been struck by the heart-wrenching story it told, the deep meanings behind it and the feeling of freedom he experienced at the end leaving him breathless during the wee hours of the morning - he had spent the whole day mesmerized by it. And like every other time, Jinyoung hoped he would be able convey all those feelings to his audience. 

At times, he felt like he had failed to bring out the best a book had to offer, feeling like he could have done better. Yet, other times he would receive messages from his listeners, telling him how he had showed them how truly beautiful a certain story was. Jinyoung would never admit it to anyone but himself, but the messages he liked the most were the ones he received from a certain _M_. He knew nearly nothing about them, yet he always looked forward to their texts, curious about whatever issue was plaguing his dear listener. 

_M_ seemed to be genuinely seeking his help each time, a fact that flattered Jinyoung to no end, yet it left him wondering. What kind of person were they, exactly? What was hidden behind their sometimes vulnerable, sometimes playful language? 

“I’m sorry if I’m always choosing such dramatic readings, guys. I guess what we like to read mirrors who we are inside. And no, I’m not going to deny this! Even though I know that I basically just described myself as a total sap. Dear listeners, are you disappointed?” Jinyoung chuckled under his breath. He could see Chaeyoung, who was still busy monitoring his audio performance, snickering from behind the dividing glass. 

A ringing sound caught Jinyoung’s attention, his eyes moving to the screen where the texts he received were being shown. 

“Finally some messages! I thought you guys had fallen asleep on me or something. Leaving me here, all alone… how cruel of you.” He pouted, opening the first one and smiling to himself once he saw who had sent it. 

“ _‘Junior, an author you might like will be signing copies of her recent book at the local bookstore this weekend. Will you be there?’_ , signed M.” 

Jinyoung hummed, pondering over that piece of information. 

“Thank you for the heads up, I will probably check that out. And who knows, I might even end up going. Maybe some of you guys will even catch me there!” He winked, knowing no one would have been able to see him, yet it fit well with the whole situation, so he went with it. 

He didn’t get to dwell too much on the whole thing though, because a couple more messages arrived and Jinyoung lost himself in his role of intangible supporter, trying his best to be of some help to those who reached out to him. 

It was only when he had eventually ended his program, the red _On Air_ sign turned off, that he let himself think to the first message from _M_. They had talked about an author signing copies at the bookstore Jinyoung liked to frequent once a week. He loved that place, the cashier giving him special discounts whenever he got into one of his _moods_ and decided to buy a tall stack of new books. He would have liked to stop there on a daily basis, even if only to soak in the atmosphere of the place and leaf through his old favorites, but Jinyoung’s life was too hectic for that. 

He picked up his bag, waving goodbye to Chaeyoung, and walked back into the night. The air smelled a lot less like smog now, the faint undertones of fresh grass tickling his nose. Jinyoung turned his eyes skyward, blinking at what little he could see of the sky from the gap in between the tall buildings. It looked as dark and as starless as it could be in the big city that was Seoul, a thick brush stroke of black and blue. 

A tiny, twinkling star caught his attention. Its dim light was threatened to be swallowed by the darkness around it, yet the star was still there. Jinyoung smiled to himself, a passing thought of Mark’s blond hair making the corner of his lips pull up.   
Who knew what the man was up to at that moment. Surely, he must have been peacefully sleeping in his bed, dreaming about whatever it was that stars dreamed about. 

Jinyoung pulled a face, momentarily berating himself for thinking such cheesy stuff. Yet, he couldn’t refrain himself when he was near Mark, the other coaxing him into a state of calmness so encompassing that Jinyoung wanted nothing more than to wrap himself in it. He liked to appear as someone collected himself, but the truth was that he was more often than not putting up a facade. He had a tendency to sweep his more anxious side under the rag, away from prying eyes. Jaebum was probably the only one who knew about that side of him, his best friend having helped him through some tough times in his life. 

The door to his apartment opened with a silent click, streaks of lights coming from the streetlights lining the sidewalk outside illuminating the otherwise dark living room. Jinyoung dropped his bag by the entrance, took off his shoes and proceeded to pass out on his bed. 

Morning came all too soon, and with it the remainder that another busy day was on the horizon for him. Jaebum had yet to wake up, so Jinyoung started to set things ready for breakfast. His friend showed up not long after, bleary eyed and dragging his feet as usual - Jaebum was _not_ a morning person.

“‘Morning.” It sounded more like a grunt.

“Hello there, the troll is out of the cave.” Jinyoung snickered.

However, Jaebum didn’t have the strength to answer back, simply limiting himself to a grumble of half formed words. The two of them sat at the table, consuming their food in companionable silence. 

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?” Jaebum spoke up, munching mindlessly on a piece of bread. 

“Mmm… Apparently there’s a famous author signing copies at the bookstore, downtown.” Jinyoung replied, recalling the previous night’s happenings. 

Jaebum nodded, his chopsticks scraping the bottom of his plate. “You don’t have any plans with Mark?”

He looked at his friend with a frown on his face. 

“Why would I have plans with him?”

Jaebum shrugged, a small smirk on his face, the one that always got on Jinyoung’s nerves because he knew what his friend was thinking about. 

“Just asking.”

“You’re an evil man, Im Jaebum.” Jinyoung shook his head, preferring to let the subject drop before he made a fool of himself. Or worse, he attempted at his friend’s life before 9 AM. 

Jaebum shrugged. “I’ve been told that.” 

The rest of the day passed in the blink of an eye, just like the rest of the week. Jinyoung had been busy with college - he was studying journalism, in hope to become a writer one day -, a bunch of extracurricular projects and his shift at the radio station. In between all that, Mark had dropped by his apartment only once, and that time it was to give something back to _Jinyoung_ for a change. The elder had insisted in wanting to read one of the many poetry books the younger owned, choosing a worn out copy of E.E.Cummings’ selection of poems.

When Jinyoung went to place the book back on his library, a small note had slipped out of it.

_‘Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.’  
Thank you,   
Mark_

The dark haired man had smiled to himself, something warm spreading through his chest and making him giddy with happiness - he kept the note pinned to the wall in his bedroom.

Eventually, once the weekend rolled by, Jinyoung found himself in front of the large windows lining the external walls of the big bookstore. There was a small crowd of people standing in front of the entrance doors already, and a bigger one inside, cluttering the area that had been set up for the author to sign copies at. She had yet to show up, an expectant murmur filling the otherwise silent store. The crowd was comprised of so many different people that Jinyoung was surprised by the diversity of them. There were young high schoolers with backpacks and colorful sharpies in hand; there were middle aged women and men standing next to old folks making way with their canes. It was touching to see how books could reach out to so many different people. 

After his initial shock, Jinyoung started to get restless. He thought about how some of those individuals around him might have been his listeners and, despite the fact that no one knew how he looked, he could still feel the tension of the possibility of meeting some of them. However, there was one person in particular that he was nervous to meet. 

The murmurs coming from those waiting for the author to show up started to grow more and more excited, many voices blending together to create a steady thrum in Jinyoung’s ears. He was busy craning his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone walking to the signing booth, when a clear, yet familiar voice called out to him.

“Junior!”

Jinyoung startled, turning around. At first, his vision was occupied by teenagers huddling close behind him and trying to move forward, so he stepped to the side to let them through. 

“Junior!” The voice called out again. 

Finally, Jinyoung lifted his eyes, coming face to face with a mop of blond hair and a bright smile. 

“Mark.” He replied, confused. 

The other jogged up next to him, making his way through a group of people. He shyly waved at him, Jinyoung reciprocating the greeting. 

“Hey, you made it!” Mark looked as handsome as ever, an oversized sweater swallowing his form. The sleeves were so long, they let only the tips of his reddened fingers on show. 

“Ah… yeah…” Jinyoung replied, unsure. He hadn’t expected to see Mark there, and less than anything, he hadn’t expected him to call him by his pseudonym, _Junior_. 

“How did you know I was here? Have you lied to me about that stalking thing?” Jinyoung joked, but he was genuinely curious. 

Mark balled the ends of his sweater sleeves in his hands, chuckling nervously. “No, I just heard you saying that on the radio.”

Jinyoung blinked, trying to piece all the small things together.

“You listen to my program?” He was feeling shy all of a sudden, the knowledge that Mark had been listening to him all this time, making him fidget. 

Mark smiled widely, nodding his head. “I do.”

“Ah… this embarrasses me…” Jinyoung covered half his face with his hand. 

Mark reached out to hold his wrist, smile still glued to his lips.

“But I really like your voice.”

Jinyoung lifted his other hand to his face too, burrowing in between his fingers. He could feel a blush creeping on his cheeks. 

“Stop.” He begged, voice muffled.

“Won’t compliments work on bribing the host, though?” Mark said in a gentle voice.

Jinyoung slowly raised his head, peeking at the blond in mild stupor. 

“... Mark.” He muttered.

“Yes.” Mark tilted his head to the side.

“... _M_.” Jinyoung said in a whisper. Mark nodded in reply, not adding anything more. 

They stayed there, silence passing between them, but a loud crowd pressing on on each of their sides. Jinyoung turned around, seeing how the author had finally stepped by the booth; she was already busy signing copies. He pondered over whether they should have tried to wait in line, but his mind was occupied with so many different things that he couldn’t think straight. 

“Do you want to…” Mark spoke in a barely audible whisper, indicating with his thumb to the main doors behind him. Jinyoung agreed to the silent suggestion of moving their conversation outside, the two of them weaseling their way out the store.

Once outside, Jinyoung suggested to go into the nearest coffee shop, Mark pointing to a small one not too far off the road. The place was almost deserted, which was a surprise considering the fact that it was a weekend and students always seemed to flock by shops like those during their time off. Mark chose a table near the window, Jinyoung sitting down in front of him.

They looked at each other in silence for a couple of seconds, before Jinyoung burst out laughing.

“Uh?” Mark looked puzzled, probably starting to doubt the other’s mental stability. 

Jinyoung exhaled out a big breath, controlling his laughter. “I’m sorry, but somehow this is really hilarious to me.”

“How so?” Mark crossed his arms on the table, leaning his head on them.

“Well. For starters, and don’t get offended, but I thought _M_ was a girl.”

Mark simply shrugged, eyes focused on Jinyoung. “Fair.” 

“Second. For how long have you known about me being Junior?” Jinyoung cocked one eyebrow. He propped his head on his hands, staring resolutely at Mark. 

At that, the blond hid his face in the crook of his elbow, glaring at a stain on the window glass. 

“Some time.” He mumbled.

Jinyoung gasped exaggeratedly, leaning a bit closer to Mark. 

“So you really have been stalk-”

At that moment, the waiter walked up to them, asking if they were ready to order. Mark and Jinyoung straightened up in their seats, diverting their eyes from each other. They hadn’t realized how close they had been getting, the two of them too lost in their own world. 

Once they placed their order, the waiter assured them that they would be ready soon. When he left, Mark bit on his lower lip, playing with the rings on his fingers. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.

Jinyoung looked up at him. “What for?”

“Not telling you… sooner.” 

Jinyoung reached out his hand, taking Mark’s one in his. He caressed his thumbs over his knuckles, in an attempt at reassuring him. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He replied, squeezing the hand in his. It was cold and clammy, the long, slender fingers looking like they would slot perfectly with his. 

Mark smiled gratefully at him, before they fell into a peaceful chatter like usual. When the waiter stopped by their table to leave them their orders, they still had their hands tangled, but neither of them made a move to interrupt the physical contact. 

Jinyoung wasn’t exactly sure, but they might have stayed like that even long after they had consumed their beverages, and even longer after Mark had walked him home and wished him a good night. 

Once he reached his own apartment, Jinyoung felt dizzy, his heart hurting with each one of its beats. He opened the door, Jaebum greeting him with a wave of his hand.

“So, how was the thing at the bookstore?” 

Jinyoung took some time to collect his thoughts, brain still feeling lost somewhere else. 

“Ah, yeah… I met Mark.” 

Jaebum perked up at that, leaning over the back of the couch with a smirk on his lips.

“Thought you said you didn’t have any plans with him.” He waggled his eyebrows, tilting his head from side to side.

Jinyoung scoffed, removing his shoes and making his way to his room. He really didn’t have the strength to bicker with Jaebum right now. 

“Is he cute, then?” His friend called out in a loud voice before Jinyoung could disappear in his bedroom.

He had his hand poised on the handle, the same one that held Mark’s one throughout a good part of the day.

“Do I really need to answer that?”

Jaebum shrugged, going back to watching television and munching on some chips. “Just wanted to annoy you.” 

Silence fell in the small apartment, the only sound coming from the movie playing in the living room. Bluish lights reflected all over the furniture, basking the place in an ethereal lighting. 

“For your information, I think he’s really beautiful.” And just like that Jinyoung closed the door to his room behind his back. He could hear Jaebum cackling from behind it.

“You are unbelievable, Park Jinyoung!” 

Jinyoung gazed tenderly at the small note still sticking over his bed frame.

“He’s the unbelievable one.” He whispered to the darkness of his room.

☆

The following morning, Jaebum ropes his friend into telling him everything about that had happened the previous day, including how Mark had apparently been listening to Jinyoung’s night radio program. Jaebum had laughed so hard that he had almost choked himself on his breakfast. Once he calmed down, Jinyoung staring daggers at him all the while, he spoke in a joking tone.

“So he has been sending you corny messages while you were working, the boy basically hitting on you - no, hey don’t make that face, I’m not lying.”

“He’s been asking for advice. He hasn’t been hitting on me, don’t read too much into it.” Jinyoung huffed. 

Jaebum’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, which made Jinyoung snort. He looked comical.

“Are you really trying to deny the fact that he’s been flirting with you all this time?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I knew you could be dense, but you’re living in denial, man.”

Jinyoung sipped on his cup of coffee, the steam wafting from it fogging up his glasses. He stayed silent, eyes unfocused. 

He wasn’t in denial, he was being _realistic_. Jinyoung looked average at best - which was when he shaved himself, dressed nicely and ate healthily, an alignment of conditions that was hard to come by these days - whereas Mark looked too good for this Earth. Okay, he was definitely exaggerating as his usual, but still. The point was that Mark looked like someone who didn’t harbor an interest in people like Jinyoung. Not _that_ sort of interest, at least. They had started to become good friends, always comfortable around each other, but that was probably it. 

Jaebum waved a hand in front of Jinyoung’s eyes. 

“Earth to Park. Are you receiving?” 

“I’m getting a weak signal.” Jinyoung replied with a chuckle. 

“... you need to ask him out.” Jaebum blurted out, pointing his chopsticks at his friend accusingly. 

Jinyoung blinked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“... sorry what.”

“You. Need to ask him out. Next weekend BamBam is opening his new art gallery. Invite him on the night of the inauguration.”

The morning sun rays were hitting Jinyoung’s nape, making heat crawl up his back. He tightened his hold on the mug sitting firmly between his hands. Asking Mark on a date sounded like a dumb idea, but it also had something appealing to it. 

“No way.” He shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand. 

Jaebum groaned, slumping over the table. “Man. Come on. Worst thing that can happen is him saying _No_. What’s the big deal?”

“... I will think about it.” He said, in a muffled reply. 

And think about it, he did. He couldn’t literally think about anything else all day. He had planned to go to the library to try and get some work done, maybe write those reports he needed to hand in soon. Yet, his train of thought always circled back to that one thing. Should he ask Mark out or should he discard Jaebum’s stupid suggestion and continue on with his dull life?

An answer came to him that night, while he was hosting his radio program as usual. A message had arrived some time before he had to say his final lines. He couldn’t hold back a smile when he saw who had sent it.

_Loved tonight’s reading. Have a goodnight.  
-Mark_

Maybe Jaebum’s suggestion wasn’t as stupid as it sounded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I hope you're having a good day!   
> It's so hot here where I live, I'm going to melt welp
> 
> So much Markjin at Fly in LA #bless


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a cheesy date.

Birds were chirping up and above the trees lining the cobble path of the park, their high pitched calls echoing all around. The sun was filtering through the green leaves, a gentle breeze making them sway in a gentle dance. Children and old people seemed the only ones walking around, enjoying the good weather and fresh air. And then, right at the entrance gates, there were Jinyoung and Mark with the small addition of one fluffy, white dog - Coco. 

Jinyoung had never met Mark’s dog before, only seeing her through pictures or getting a vague idea thanks to his friend’s excited descriptions. Apparently, Youngjae had been the one to suggest rescuing a dog from the shelter and letting it in their apartment. Mark had been more than happy to oblige, getting attached to Coco right away. 

That early Wednesday afternoon, Mark had let Jinyoung know that he was going to take his dog out for a walk and he had wanted to try going to the park near his and Jaebum’s apartment. 

“ _You want to join?_ ” He had asked over the phone, in that shy voice of his. 

Jinyoung had accepted right away, setting aside all his imminent tasks and rushing out the door. Thank God Jaebum wasn’t home, or the man would have had a field day shoving in his face his borderline lovesick attitude. 

And there they were, leisurely taking a stroll in the park, side by side, the ball of fluff scurrying ahead of them. The silence between them was pleasant, not at all strained nor uncomfortable. Mark had his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie, his blond hair covered by a hat. Meanwhile, Jinyoung was staring straight ahead, brain whirring a mile a minute in an attempt at finally acting on what he had planned. Jaebum’s suggestion of asking Mark out had finally rooted itself in Jinyoung’s head, growing and flourishing, creating tangles of nervousness in his chest. 

Mark kicked a pebble with the tip of his shoe, the small rock rolling right in front of Jinyoung. He blinked at it for a moment, lifting his head to find the other looking expectantly at him. Jinyoung smirked, kicking the pebble far up the path with an exaggerated gesture. Mark giggled, running after it. Coco, seeing his owner rushing somewhere, wanted to join in on the fun, so she scampered in his direction, almost falling over her short feet. Mark laughed at his dog’s adorable behaviour, kneeling down to pick her up in his arms. He snuggled his nose in her fur, Jinyoung smiling fondly at the display of affection. He walked closer to the two, winding an arm around Mark’s shoulders and getting his face up close to Coco’s one. The dog didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture too much, though. In fact, she started to wiggle restlessly in Mark’s arms, ready for an escape. Jinyoung pouted. 

“I see how it is.” 

Mark laughed some more, a tinkling sound that had Jinyoung feeling proud for being the cause of it. 

“You wanna get down?” Mark directed his question to the small dog, which barked in response. 

As Jinyoung looked at Coco going back to sniffing at a patch of grass, he realized he was still half hugging Mark. He tried his best to be as inconspicuous as possible while he retracted his arm from the other male, throwing a casual comment to redirect the attention to a different topic. 

“Dogs never seemed to take a liking to me.” Jinyoung said, Mark looking at him with a curious look in his eyes. His gaze was starting to make the dark haired man a bit too flustered.

“Must be your ears.” Mark said with a playful lilt in his voice. Jinyoung didn’t get the time to ask him what he meant by that, when a puff of air got blown in his ear. He squaked, going to press his hands to the side of his head. Mark burst out in a fit of laughter, running away to go hide behind a tree. 

They joked and played around for a couple of hours, time flying by so fast that Jinyoung had to stop and wonder when the sun had started to slowly inch behind the buildings. They were sitting on a bench, sipping on some coffee and sharing a snack when Mark spoke up.

“So. Are you doing anything this weekend?” He asked, making the hot beverage swirl in the paper cup. Jinyoung stopped munching on the sweet treat, throat suddenly tightening up. He loudly gulped, mind running a mile a minute. He knew that at some point during the day he would have had to ask Mark out, but the afternoon had flown by so peacefully that he didn’t get the time to prepare himself mentally. 

Oblivious to Jinyoung’s internal crisis, Mark kept on staring at his coffee, throwing occasional glances at the man sitting beside him. 

“Ummm…” Jinyoung started uncharacteristically. Generally, he was the one who measured his words and always knew what to say. However this time, he was at a loss. 

It was now or never though.

“There’s a friend, BamBam, he’s an artist. He’s going to open his newest exhibition this weekend. Do you, I mean, I don’t know if you’re into that kind of stuff? Jaebum will probably be there, so you can call Youngjae I guess. If he would like to-” 

“Jinyoung.” Mark put his index finger in front of Jinyoung’s lips, shutting him up. Which was a good thing, because he was starting to lose the thread of the conversation. He really was a mess when it came to Mark. Jinyoung chuckled nervously. 

“It sounds cool. I will go.” The blond said nonchalantly, bunching the fabric of his sweater up in his hands. 

Jinyoung stared at Mark a little longer, before breaking into a grateful smile. 

“It’s a date, then.” He didn’t know where all the courage came from, but suddenly he felt like he could leap three feet high and catch the fading sunrays in the palms of his hands. 

Mark nodded, avoiding eye contact and limiting himself to bump shoulders with Jinyoung.

“It’s a date.”

☆

Mark’s bedroom was an absolute mess.

Clothes and jeans were strewn on every which surface, and so were socks, snapbacks and beanies. The room smelled like honey body wash and aftershave; Mark had made sure to spray some cologne too. Just in case. 

Hip hop music was blasting at full force from his laptop, the beat making him bob his head rhythmically. He had been comparing outfits for the last thirty minutes, and he was still as clueless about what to wear as he was when he had decided to dump all of his wardrobe on his bed. 

A knock on his door followed by Youngjae’s voice, woke him up from his stupor. 

“Man, are you alright in there?” The door creaked open ever so slightly, his flatmate peeking into his room in curiosity. Mark turned around, hands full of shirts and a look of desperation on his face.

“... help?” Youngjae inquired, taking the clothes from Mark’s hands and placing them back on the bed. The blond nodded, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Why is this so stressful.” He asked, rhetorically. He knew the answer already, but his friend seemed set on wanting to point fingers at the _very obvious_ elephant in the room. 

“Because it’s a date, clearly!” He smiled, digging in the mess and trying to help Mark find a passable outfit. The latter grumbled intelligibly, going to shoo Coco from where she had perched herself on his favorite pair of jeans, which was currently lying carelessly on the floor. 

Youngjae eventually picked out some clothes that Mark approved of. They were all very plain: a button up shirt with a pair of ripped jeans, all topped off by a black beanie and a jacket. The simplicity of it all seemed to be mocking Mark and his almost hour-long indecision. 

“Where are you meeting?” Youngjae asked, sitting heavily on the bed. 

“Subway station a couple of blocks away.” Mark replied thoughtlessly, too taken with fixing his hair in the mirror. There was a tuft of hair that wasn’t collaborating the way he wanted it to. 

Youngjae hummed in understanding. He kicked his feet up, wiggling them.

“And are you coming back tonight?” He added, a smile on his face. To anyone else, he would have seemed as innocent as he made himself out to be. Mark knew him well, though. That was _not_ an innocent smile. 

“Yes, I am.” Mark made sure to stress each word. 

Youngjae laughed loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Cool! Have fun!” 

With that, Mark picked up his phone and his keys, jogging out of the door and down the stairs. He checked the time to make sure he wasn’t running late, before he started to walk the short way to the meeting point. From what Jinyoung had told him, BamBam was one of his high school friends who had transferred some time during their first year. He was from Thailand and had decided to pursue a career in visual arts. 

Additionally, in the end, Jaebum wouldn’t be there because of some last minute work related issue. That left just Mark and Jinyoung to enjoy the art gallery’s opening night. Just the two of them. 

Mark twiddled with the zipper of his jacket, nervous energy flowing out of him. When he was still with Jihyo, the two of them would sometimes go out and enjoy a night or an afternoon out, but they never referred to it as _dating_. This time though it was different. 

Mark wanted it to be different. 

Once the bright sign that indicated the subway stop was visible, Mark could make out a figure waiting there. He walked a bit faster, eventually realizing that it was Jinyoung. The man was dressed with a pair of dark jeans and a white sweater that made him light up like a mystical vision. Mark’s heart was beating a mile an hour; he could feel his fingers trembling ever so slightly. 

“Ah, hello there.” Jinyoung said, smiling at Mark. Had he said already how much he loved the little crinkles at the corner of his eyes? 

“Hey. Hi.” He replied, coming to a halt in front of him. The two of them stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds, Jinyoung being the first to speak up again.

“You look really good.” 

Mark could feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck and settling on his cheeks. 

“Thanks… you too.”

Jinyoung laughed, shoulders shaking and eyes bright. 

“Let’s go?”

Mark nodded, following Jinyoung down the stairs and into the first train directed to their destination. There was a nervous air surrounding the two men as they stood side by side waiting for their stop to pull up. Neither said anything for the most part of the journey, when suddenly Jinyoung took Mark’s hand in his, pulling him towards the doors.

“It’s our stop.” Is all he said, Mark offering a small _Yes_ in reply.

They got off the train, taking the escalator to reach the surface once again. Mark was hyper-aware of how they were still holding hands. 

They walked for a bit, small talk finally starting to flow between them. The simple topics each of them came up with helped them relax more and more, the night breeze washing away their worries. The city around them was alive with people walking the streets and cluttering various bars. The bright illumination from neon signs and street lights reflect in their eyes, each blink sparkling vividly. 

As time passed, Mark realized how Jinyoung’s smile was becoming less tense, the man letting himself go and often times forgetting to cover his mouth when a loud bout of laughter left his lips. Mark was already drunk on just the sight in front of his eyes, something he wished he could encase in his memories for a long time. 

Eventually, they came to a stop in front of a modern looking building, a fancy fountain in front of it letting water cascade sinuously on the marble tops. 

“We’re here.” Jinyoung announced, squeezing on Mark’s hand and leading him in the direction of a glass door. A long line of people waiting for their turn to enter was standing right beside it, but the dark haired man skipped it without as much as a second glance. He exchanged some words with the security guard, who hurriedly hushed them in. 

“Got us some VIP treatment.” Jinyoung waggled his eyebrows, Mark snorting in response. 

The exhibition was nothing short of extravagant, Mark thought. Sculptures and creations of any kind were spaced apart so to let the crowd glide by them without disrupting the flow. Suffused lights and ambient music created a relaxing atmosphere all around them, people discussing about art in every angle. Mark suddenly felt very out of place. However, Jinyoung didn’t leave him the time to mull over his discomfort, leading him by the nearest painting. He squinted at it, reading from a small plaque placed on the wall.

“ _‘The Followers’_ , 2016.” 

Mark stared at the figures on the canvas for a while longer, reds and yellows melting with blues and violets. There was something about them that he couldn’t quite place. There was a lady behind them going on about the deepest meaning of life and theology being hidden in the artwork and in the portrayed people. Jinyoung pursed his lips, a light bulb going off in Mark’s head. He leaned next to his date, trying to keep his voice down.

“Are they… _dabbing_?” He asked in an incredulous voice. Jinyoung snorted, finding it hard to keep his laughter at bay.

“Right. You haven’t met BamBam yet.” He said, this time unable to contain his laughter. Mark followed along, people around them sending them hateful stares. Neither of them cared. 

Just like that, they kept on commenting Jinyoung’s friend’s art. Some pieces were interesting, but some forced boisterous laughters out of the two men, who leaned on each other’s shoulders for support. They had reached the end of the exhibit when a lean, well dressed person walked up to them, smiling happily at Jinyoung.

“You made it!” The man said, punching Jinyoung on the shoulder in a friendly manner. 

“Glad I could. Hadn’t had a laugh quite like that in some time.” Jinyoung joked, ruffling the other’s hair. 

“Hey! The hair stylist cost me a fortune! Don’t mess up what you can’t afford!”

Jinyoung scoffed, turning towards Mark. “Mark, this is BamBam. The artist himself.”

BamBam reached out to shake Mark’s hand with excitement. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Kunpimook Bhuwakul, designer and visual artist. I hope you enjoyed the exposition!” His words overlapped one another as he kept on shaking the blond’s hand. 

“Mark Tuan. Nice to meet you. You have some interesting stuff in here.” Mark didn’t have it in himself to say anything more, lest he made some rude comment. 

“Sold anything yet, Picasso?” Jinyoung asked, patting BamBam on the back. 

“Damn, I wish. It’s only opening night, so we will see...” The artist chuckled shyly. Then, his eyes seemed to fall instantly on Mark and Jinyoung’s entangled hands. 

“On a date?” He asked cheekily, eyebrows waggling exaggeratedly. 

Mark could feel the tip of his ears getting hotter, but before he could say anything, Jinyoung hit BamBam upside the head. 

“Aish, as nosey as ever I see. And still full of disrespect for your elders.”

BamBam squeaked in protest, looking like a small wounded animal. Mark laughed at the look on his face. Jinyoung turned around to stare at him, smiling fondly.

BamBam whistled. “Look at those heart eyes, aren’t you going to-” 

Before he could finish the sentence, Jinyoung had him in a choke hold, grumbling under his breath. Mark took the opportunity to slip away, offering to go take something to drink for everyone. He spotted a long table packed with glasses filled with champagne, taking three of them and being careful at not spilling anything - some of the guests in the hall were wearing dresses that far surpassed Mark’s monthly pay. He halted momentarily to take in Jinyoung’s appearance from afar, appraising his features. With the spotlights casting a soft glow all over the room, standing there Jinyoung looked even more beautiful than art itself.

Mark shook his head, heart clenching in his chest. He didn’t know where the rest of the night would have led them, but he hoped for that date not to be their last one. 

He walked up to Jinyoung and BamBam, handing them their glasses. He was ready to down a gulp of the bubbly drink, when an arm snaked around his shoulders. Almost naturally, he slipped his own around Jinyoung’s waist, holding him to his side. 

“To a successful career for the artist.” The dark haired man raised his glass up high; BamBam and Mark followed him. They toasted, clinking their flutes together, wishing for the exhibition to have a great success.

☆

It had gotten quite late, streets nearly deserted and the full moon barely visible in the dark sky. The air smelled like grilled meat and Mark felt hungry all of a sudden. They had left BamBam’s art gallery after downing some more free champagne, getting moderately tipsy. The alcohol was slowly giving way to sleepiness and hunger, though.

Mark managed to convince Jinyoung to stop by a still open take away shop, the two men ordering a portion of ramen. They scarfed it down in a blink of an eye, eventually deciding to take the train back home. 

Unlike Seoul’s wide roads, the subway was packed. People were probably getting back home from whatever party they had been to, occupying every nook and cranny of the carriage. Mark pressed himself against a plastic glass, Jinyoung squeezing in in front of him. They were so close that Mark could feel the other’s breath on his cheek. His hands felt restless, fingers opening and closing with nervousness. Jinyoung smelled like aftershave, and the strong smell of food from the ramen shop still lingered to his shirt. Mark couldn’t help but lay his head on his shoulder, snuggling his nose in the gentle slope of his neck. Jinyoung froze for just a moment, before he relaxed and put one of his hands on Mark’s hip. They stayed like that for the remained of the journey back home. Not even when the crowd started to thin out they separated, finding comfort in each other’s cozy closeness. 

Their stop pulled up soon enough, the two getting off in a lazy tangle of limbs. Jinyoung held Mark’s hand once more, walking him back home. Once in front of the tall apartment building, the air between them shifted ever so imperceptibly. The conversation, which had been sure and unwavering for a good part of the night, now came to a sudden halt. Neither knew what to say, preferring to resort to a silence heavy with meaning and untold actions. Mark was awkwardly shuffling his feet, eyes darting from Jinyoung’s shirt collar, to his hands and then to his mouth. He sucked in his lips in a nervous habit of his, catching the dark haired man’s gaze.

“I had a good time.” Jinyoung whispered, his voice hanging roughly in the air. 

Mark bit on his lower lip, nodding. 

“Me too.” He replied in a soft voice. 

“Then… I guess I will see you?” 

Mark could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing into his veins burning him like a fire. His breath felt heavier.

“... yeah.” His voice threatened to crack on that single syllable. 

Jinyoung tangled his fingers with Mark’s ones, tickling his palm with his fingertips. Electric sparks lit him up, the need to take a step forward washing over him. The space between them shrunk to mere inches, humidity sitting thickly at their feet. Mark blinked his eyes, catching Jinyoung’s gaze bewitchingly stuck to his lips. He licked them, overly conscious.

Jinyoung lifted a hand, caressing Mark’s cheekbone with his thumb. There was almost a reverent look in his eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked in a gentle murmur, breath tickling Mark’s lips. A lamp post blinked on and off right over their heads, light catching on Jinyoung’s features.

“Yeah.” Mark breathed out, leaning closer without waiting for Jinyoung’s response. Their lips met in a gentle and careful kiss, Mark’s hands travelling to Jinyoung’s back and grasping at the material of his jacket. The air was thick, mouths against mouths pressing insistently. In a bout of courage, Mark grabbed at Jinyoung’s ass, squeezing it in his hands. 

Jinyoung immediately gasped in surprise, hitting Mark on his chest. The blond laughed cheerily, giving the behind another good squeeze. 

“Our first date and you’re already trying to defile me.” Jinyoung said, nibbling on Mark’s lower lip. 

He hummed.

“Soft and squishy.” Mark murmured, before catching Jinyoung’s lips once more. The younger tangled his fingers in his blond hair, pulling on it whenever Mark’s hands wandered too close to his backside. 

“... wanna come up?” Mark asked. He was panting. Jinyoung smirked, kissing his cheek playfully.

“Isn’t Youngjae home?”

Mark cursed under his breath, throwing a disdainful glare at his own feet. He could still call his flatmate and ask him to lock himself inside his room, but Mark couldn’t do that to Youngjae.

Or could he?

“Let him sleep.” Jinyoung piped up, kissing Mark’s other cheek. “I’ll text you when I get home.” And with that he took a step back, leaving Mark cold and needy. 

“Bye, Mark.” 

“... bye.” Mark’s voice was rough, his face undoubtedly flushed red. Jinyoung smiled sweetly at him, before he turned around to walk back to his own apartment.

That night, Mark couldn’t sleep. However this time it wasn’t because of some self-inflicted psychological discomfort, but it was mostly due to an endless replay of that evening’s happenings. For the love of everything he held dear, Mark swore he couldn’t stop thinking back to how Jinyoung had looked in that sweater, how he shined under the exhibition’s lights and how he had tasted on his lips when they wished each other’s goodnight. 

Mark had never felt as light as he was feeling that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is the last chapter for this fic!  
> I hope you all enjoyed it!  
> I want to thank all those who took the time to leave a comment! Thank you so so much!!! You kept me going :')

The room smelled like dust and something that reminded Mark of old plastic containers. It was well kept and functional, as a recording studio should be, but it gave off a feeling of ancient glory that had him believe the place had seen better days. The girl sitting not too far away from him was tinkering by the big console, pressing buttons and turning switches in rapt concentration. 

Mark leaned forward, nestling his head over his folded arms. He turned his stare back to the main studio, separated from the one he was currently in by a thick glass. Jinyoung was sitting on a spinning chair, a pair of headphones resting over his ears and a professional microphone in front of his face. Mark blinked, resting his index finger on one of the earphones plugged in his own ears. 

“ _‘According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.’_ ”

Jinyoung was smiling, gentle and soft. The light in his eyes was burning something fiery, his whole body taken in with what he was currently reading. From time to time he would gesticulate, hands flying up and down in emphasis. Mark bit his lower lip to try and contain a smile: to think he had been missing on such a view all those times he had been listening to Junior over the radio. 

“ _‘...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment…’_ ” 

A pair of eyes met Mark’s ones, a playful smirk directed his way. The blond further burrowed his face in his crossed arms, a bashful smile on his face, before he blew an exaggerated kiss at Jinyoung. The girl beside him eyed him in amusement, soon enough going back to her work. 

“ _Do you all know when Plato wrote this? More than two thousands years ago. Isn’t that incredible?_ ”

Mark hummed under his breath. It truly was.

“ _Love has been around for as long as man has been alive. Such a complicated feeling, laden with more questions than answers…_ ” 

Jinyoung’s voice drifted slowly, like smoke, tickling at Mark’s wakeful conscience. Without realizing it, he had closed his eyes, eyelids heavy and tired. That evening he had received a call from Jinyoung asking him if he was free that night. Mark obviously had replied that yes, he didn’t have any plans.

“ _There’s a place where I’d like to take you._ ” Was all Jinyoung had said. 

Mark had found himself standing in front of a tall building, dominated by a tall antenna. Jinyoung squeezed his hand, dragging him wordlessly towards the entrance. Soon enough they were in what Mark had recognized being the recording studio where the other man worked at. Many people greeted them, some throwing the blond questioning glances, but never putting words to their doubts. 

Jinyoung took him to the furthest end of the floor, where a door labeled _Studio_ led to a room equipped with various audio machinery. A short girl welcomed them both, offering Mark a spare pair of earphones with which he could listen to the program. Apparently Jinyoung had warned her of his arrival, because she fussed over him, directing him to sit on a chair that looked like it had seen better days. Mark sat down nonetheless, grateful for the still soft padding. 

“ _First row seats, wow._ ” Mark had joked, poking at Jinyoung’s side. 

“ _You get to witness Junior working his magic._ ” The other had replied, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from Mark before walking into the recording booth. Mark had covered his face with his hands, glancing to the side to see if the girl had caught them, but she seemed too busy with other stuff. 

Mark couldn’t remember being so giddy about anything before. Jinyoung made him feel like he could accomplish anything; it was an all-encompassing feeling, something that started from the tip of his toes, reaching all the way into the depth of his chest. He showed him so many new things, opening doors to new possibilities that Mark had never took into account before. He felt like it was that much easier to reach out for what he desired; that much easier to fall asleep. 

“... rk. Wake up”

That much peaceful to wake up. 

“Mark.”

Mark opened his eyes, lids blearily batting against the soft lighting of the room.

“Mark.” A gentle voice called out again. The blond raised his head from where it was resting over his crossed arms, coming face to face with what was probably his favorite sight.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Had a nice nap?”

He groaned, looking around the studio. No one was there, the girl from before having vanished and the small lights of the big console all turned off.

“... have I been sleeping for long?” His voice was scratchy, laden in a thick layer of sleep. 

Jinyoung crouched, placing his elbows on Mark’s knees and looking up at him from under his lashes. A soft smile played on his lips. 

“For some time.” He tilted his head to the side, Mark cupping his cheeks in his hands. “Did you dream about me?”

Mark giggled at that, bashfully lowering his chin. He didn’t say anything, limiting himself to rake his fingers in Jinyoung’s dark locks, combing them away from his face and revealing his forehead. Jinyoung hummed, leaning into the comforting touch. 

“Want to go home?”

Mark nodded, pulling the other to his feet. 

“Let’s go.”

They said their goodbyes to the remaining crew members still littering the hallways, before walking into the frisky night. There was a cold breeze blowing, tickling at their cheeks, making them turn red. Jinyoung pulled Mark closer, entangling their arms so they would share some heat. Nothing could be heard around them, aside from the cry of a faraway ambulance speeding down Seoul’s streets. Mark pressed his thumb to Jinyoung’s pulse point on his wrist, the rhythmical beat of his heart being his favorite lullaby. Over the previous days, the two had decided to start dating for real, taking things slowly and with no rush. However, they were both healthy young men in their twenties, so it wasn’t long before careful kisses on a couch turned into something more in the bedroom. 

Mark had started to sleep over at Jinyoung’s place more often, the younger’s room giving off a tranquil atmosphere that helped him sleep better. Or maybe that was because of Jinyoung’s own presence - his warm, naked body pressed comfortingly next to his; Mark’s arms around his waist and toes touching. 

A handful of too bright stars could be seen peeking from behind the houses’ roofs, Jinyoung pointing them to Mark. The two stopped in their tracks to bask in their humble light, before rushing into Jinyoung’s apartment and closing the door behind them. 

They undressed, slipping under the covers only in their underwear. It was a moonless night, the window in the bedroom letting in only flickers from the street lamps outside. 

“Want me to read you something?”

“... not if you’re tired.”

Jinyoung smiled, kissing Mark deeply.

“What book should I choose?” He whispered against his lips. 

“You pick it.” Mark replied, kissing Jinyoung once more before letting his head fall on the soft pillow. 

The dark haired man pursued his lips in thought, bright eyes shining full of mirth.

“I wrote something the other day. Want to hear it?”

Mark perked up at that, nodding. “Sure.”

Jinyoung had never read anything written by him before. Mark knew about the other’s dream of becoming a successful writer one day. He had faith in him; he knew he could do it. Yet, it was but a blind faith, because no matter how many times Mark asked and pleaded, Jinyoung would never read him one of his own creations. Perhaps this was a different night. 

Jinyoung reached out his arm to pick up a small leather bound notebook lying on his nightstand. He flipped it open to a page filled with ink and annotations. 

“This is really embarrassing.” Jinyoung laughed nervously, picking at the corner of a page. 

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Jinyoung shook his head. “I just need to prepare myself.” 

He took a deep breath before he let himself fall in trance he seemed to be in whenever he read a story aloud. Mark noticed how his pupils dilated, how his lips curled in a satisfied smile and his forehead crinkled during dramatic parts. 

Mark had never been a good critic. He had started reading in the first place because of how Junior’s voice and passion had made him feel, his interest in the plot or stylistic choices themselves getting lost on him. However, he knew for a fact that what Jinyoung was reading to him was absolutely mesmerizing. Words flowed with easiness off his mouth, each one clearly picked with so much attention and expertise - Mark knew how much of a perfectionist the other was. The characters were lovable, the descriptions enrapturing and Mark was hanging on each and every sentence. Nothing mattered outside of the world Jinyoung was weaving for him, breathing but an abstract concept. 

“... what do you think?”

Mark snapped out of his reverie, realizing how the other was staring at him expectantly. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, blinking back what felt like tears in his eyes.

“I love it.” He whispered, voice thick with emotion and fondness. 

Jinyoung broke into a dazzling smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t cover it with his hands. Mark moved to tackle him to the bed, kissing him breathless.

“I love you.”

Another smile.

“I love you too.”

☆

Mark tapped on his phone screen and his lockscreen stared back at him. He swiped his finger to unlock it, before gazing at the home page for so long that the screen went black again. He repeated this a couple more times, when the main door of his apartment opened.

“We’re here!” Youngjae said, letting Coco into their place to free her of her leash. 

Mark replied with a weak _Hey_ , going back to tiredly tap at his phone screen. Youngjae left his things on the shelf by the door and promptly plopped next to his flatmate. 

“Watchu doing?”

“... making a decision.”

Youngjae lifted his legs to cross them on the couch.

“Call him.”

Mark spun his head around, frowning at his friend. How did he know?

“I can tell.” Youngjae said, tapping the side of his nose. “Aren’t you dating already? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect.

Mark was a little scared.

“... guess I don’t want to seem clingy.” He lied.

Youngjae patted his back, smiling reassuringly at him.

“You’re not, don’t worry! You should call him. That would make him happy for sure!” With that, he stood up and waddled into the kitchen to get some food ready for Coco. 

In the end, Mark didn’t call Jinyoung, but limited himself to send him a text asking to meet him outside the local library where he knew the other man was busy studying and finishing up some of his projects. 

The answer arrived right away.

_See you there ♥_

Mark smiled at the totally unrelated slew of emojis that followed the message. A worm? Really? 

He let Youngjae know he was going out before skipping down the stairs and making his way towards the library. He took the subway, because the sky was an angry gray that promised rain, and Mark had totally forgotten to pick up his umbrella. Once he got off at the right stop, he went to unplug his earphones and put them away, when the white cable tangled with a passerby’s bag.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Mark said, bowing in apology.

“Mark?” 

He righted himself right away when he heard the voice calling out his name. There stood Jihyo, long hair falling on her shoulders and pink lipstick on her lips.

“Long time no see.” She breathed out, clutching her bag closer to her body. 

Mark looked at her for a second longer, before something started to creep at the back of his throat.

“... yeah.” He replied, lifting the hood of his jacket over his head. 

And just like that he sped off in the direction of the exit, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor tiles. He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Once he was out in the open air, he was breathing hard, shoulders lifting and lowering to the beat of his erratic heart. A drop of water fell on his cheek, making him look up at the sky. It was starting to rain, thunders roaring in the distance. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hurriedly making his way towards the library building. People around him were trying to find the nearest shelter before the storm fully approached. 

He threw the glass doors of the building open right in time. Fat raindrops were splattering against the ground, chasing each other while they glided against the windows.

“Guess we’re stuck in here.” 

Mark startled, turning around to see an amused Jinyoung.

“Did I scare you?” 

The blond shook his head. Jinyoung laughed.

“Forgot my umbrella.”

The hall was empty, no one aside from the two of them standing there, staring at the downpour from the big windows. 

“We hadn’t had rain for some time now.” Jinyoung stated, placing his palm against the cold glass. The water reflected on his skin, opalescent and fugitive. 

“Yeah…” 

The smell of grass and rocks got enhanced by the rain, everything becoming that much sharper. Even Mark’s feelings felt sharper. 

“Jinyoung.”

“Mmh?”

“Are you scared sometimes?”

Jinyoung turned to look at Mark with his dark eyes. He was wearing his black framed glasses which looked so good on him.

“I am.”

“And is it hard?”

“It is.”

Mark laid his forehead against the glass, cold seeping into his clammy skin.

“What are you afraid of?” 

Mark pondered over the question. He was afraid of so many things, but for some reason he couldn’t come up with even one in that moment. 

“You.” He answered, a smile on his lips. Jinyoung whined, hitting him on his shoulder and eliciting another laugh from the blond. 

“Jinyoungie.”

“Yes?”

“Why are things so hard?” Mark bit on his bottom lip. “Why can’t they be easier? I don’t understand.”

Neither spoke for some time, the pitter patter of the rain encasing them in a timeless moment. Jinyoung shuffled closer to Mark, making him lift his forehead so it was no longer leaning against the glass.

“Do you know what’s one of people’s worst flaws?” His voice reverberated in the empty hall.

Mark shook his head.

“Oversimplification.” He said. “We like easy things, always trying to reach for the gist of everything, needing to understand them deeply. But the more we cut parts from the main trunk, the more we are left with nothing but the cold bark.” 

Jinyoung reached out to take Mark’s hands in his, squeezing his fingers.

“Where are the branches? The leaves? Where the flowers?”

The raindrops were reflecting in Jinyoung’s eyes like small galaxies in his irises. 

“Some things are difficult to grasp. Difficult to comprehend. Many people take years to understand them; others never do.” He spoke softly, lifting a hand to caress Mark’s cheek.

“But doesn’t beauty reside in the small details? The ones that make our life that much harder?”

Then, he kissed Mark on his mouth, drawing the moment out, breathing in the humid air. 

“It’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to take time. I’m here for you, and we can work things out together.”

Mark couldn’t utter a single word, lips frozen against Jinyoung’s soft skin.  
The downpour outside had turned into a gentle drizzle, tree leaves’ no longer straining to stay in place, sitting on the long branches. 

“Will you be here?” He asked, hands trembling. “You won’t leave.”

“That’s not a question.” Jinyoung chuckled under his breath.

“... it wasn’t meant to be.” 

“Oh, I see.” He smiled cheekily.

Jinyoung pursued his lips, taking a step back from Mark. He cleared his throat. 

“Let’s see… _‘These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.’_ ” 

Mark raised his eyebrows. “Did you steal that from Twilight?” 

Jinyoung pouted. “It’s Shakespeare.” 

The dark haired man broke into a joyous laugh. “If Jaebum knew I’ve been quoting Shakespeare to you, he’d have a field day.” 

Mark shuffled close to the other once again, hugging him tight and burying his nose in his neck. He breathed in Jinyoung’s smell, something he couldn’t place, but that he would always link to Jinyoung alone.

“That tickles.”

At that, Mark bit him.

“Ouch!”

Mark’s tinkling laugh filled the hall, bouncing off walls and against windows. He rested his forehead against Jinyoung’s one and closed his eyes.

“I’m sleepy.” He murmured.

“I will read you something, then.”

They made their way amongst the rows of bookshelves, Jinyoung pointing to a secluded space. He sat down, patting his thighs invitingly. Mark laid down, his head resting on them. 

He closed his eyes.

And he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took an unexpected philosophical turn, i don't know what to say hahaha
> 
> I have a couple of new MarkJin fics planned so please look forward to them :)  
> I'd be happy to share them with you, so stay tuned!  
> Bye bye


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